


The Apple (Pie) of My Eye

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 07:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15576645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: It started as a wish to help him smile. It quickly bloomed into something starting with L and ending with E.A Recipe for Love: one half Lancelot, the other half Vane.





	The Apple (Pie) of My Eye

**Author's Note:**

> > Recipe for Love:  
> Ingredients: 1 cup of romance, 1 pinch of humour, 2 spoonfuls of joy, 1lb of compatibility, 3 tablespoons of trust, 1 cup of respect, ½lb of sharing, 1 zest of tenderness, and ¾ cup of patience
> 
> I saw this on a coaster the other day, and Google didn't give me any results on where its origins were, but I found this cheesy thing was perfect for LanVane, and I've been saving this title for something special, so please enjoy a combination of two of my favourite things: cooking & LanVane! 

Vane would never forget the first time he made something for Lancelot. 

It was an easy recipe: flour, butter, sugar, eggs, milk. Combine, bake, wait. He even had help: his mother lighting up in delight when Vane expressed interest in exploring the culinary arts. He only reached the counter top on the tips of his toes, balancing atop a stool held down by his father; but all the effort was going to be worth it if he could see Lancelot smile, even just a little.

Yet, as Lancelot peeled off the casing and the vanilla cupcake neared his mouth, Vane squeezed the hem of his shirt, hoping beyond hope that it would be to Lancelot’s liking.

Lancelot’s eyes widened – and suddenly all the nerves Vane had been bundling up inside materialised down his cheeks, one after the other, until his face was wet and no amount of furious blinking could stop the flow.

“Vane, this is the best…” Lancelot stopped mid-sentence, looking up from the cupcake to hop off his chair, “Vane… Come here…”

Vane didn’t waste any time in running into Lancelot’s arms, practically tackling him as he hurtled towards him. He squeezed Lancelot tight, his tears staining his shirt; but all Lancelot did was rub his head and coo softly into his ear. In the middle of it all, he had even nudged Vane’s own cupcake into his mouth, somehow stemming the sobs for merely a few seconds.

“You made this, right? Tasty, isn’t it?” Lancelot asked cheerfully, opening his mouth wide to take another bite right in front of him. He ate it all in one gulp, and Vane felt Lancelot’s hold tighten around him as he shook.

“Lan-chan…” Vane choked out between sobs, staying still as Lancelot blotted away all the tears and snot running down his face, “I was… so… so… scared… you wouldn’t… like it…”

“Why wouldn’t I like it? You made it for me, after all!” Lancelot said simply, “I’ll like anything Vane makes for me!”

“Lan-chan!” Vane cried, and he squeezed Lancelot so tightly that he had to tap out against his shoulder.

Even after Vane’s parents had passed away – an unfortunate encounter with monsters that seemed to have aged Lancelot’s youthful face – Vane still continued to cook for him, more than ever in fact. Lancelot began to study and train so much that Vane would visit him, buried deep in a labyrinth of books, with a freshly made picnic and a cross look on his face, telling him to remember to eat. He’d never remember with that one track mind of his, but Vane was always there to remind him. They’d sit side by side together as their days inched by, dreaming and longing to become knights. 

They were well on their way to adulthood when Vane wasn’t sure how he was suddenly bigger than Lancelot – but he would always remember how flustered Lancelot looked. He noticed Lancelot copying his meals, chugging down as much milk as he could, and Vane wondered what he could do to help.

“Grow bigger, Lan-chan!” Vane chirped, pushing a portion of his food onto Lancelot’s plate.

“W-What?” Lancelot spluttered, going red to the tips of his ears as he shovelled food back onto Vane’s plate, “You eat it! Being small doesn’t bother me at all!”

Alas, it was futile. Nature had already decided its path. Vane was younger, taller; Lancelot older, smaller.

Lancelot wasn’t one to let anything stop him however. His lithe body lent himself to his agility, allowing him to leap and cartwheel and perform other such impressive feats of athleticism. He was fast, he was smart; Vane was sure there was nothing Lancelot couldn’t do. Vane watched him grow day by day, knowing that he’ll be the one to achieve his dreams.

Their lives as neighbours, friends that visited each other so often they practically lived together, soon came to an end. Lancelot was always destined for greater things. Lancelot was his hero, his idol, his teacher; and soon, he was packing his things to move to the capital. 

The universe began to pick them apart, the distance between them inching wider with every year that passed. Somehow, they had made it as knights together; then Lancelot became Vice Captain. At first, Vane was able to cook for the Order, everyone clamouring around him for seconds, and Vane would visit Siegfried and Lancelot training together, even late at night, and call them in to stop and finally eat. 

Then, that incident. 

Lancelot’s smile disappeared. As the new Captain of the Order, he worked tirelessly to keep the Order afloat, and Vane was often sent far away on assignments. Lancelot would lament in his letters that he missed his cooking, and Vane would promise a feast upon his arrival, but there was something different in the way they looked at each other’s faces – when they actually got to see each other in person that is.

Nostalgia became a double edged sword.

It wasn’t until their encounters with a certain crew of skyfarers that things changed significantly. After many years spent apart, Lancelot and Vane were settling back into step together, going on adventures that led to islands and cuisine they never had the opportunity to see in Feendrache. Their horizons were broadened, their knowledge expanded; but wherever they went, they were together.

“No matter where we go, your cooking is the best in the skies, Vane,” Lancelot said on a ship deck full of seafood, and Vane blushed bright red.

* * *

It was over an apple pie when Lancelot asked a certain question that would change their lives as partners. They had been Captain and Vice Captain for a while now: a lot more opportunities to eat together, a lot more opportunities to spend time together. They were chatting idly over everything and anything like they usually did, when Lancelot placed his teacup down and joined his hands together on the table.

“You cook for me, you clean, you do everything for me, Vane…” Lancelot said, his thumb idly rubbing his hand, “What are we, Vane?”

“Lan… chan?” Vane said softly, his fork still hovering halfway between the plate and his lips.

“When you gave me the courage to believe in Siegfried-san, when it was the thought of you that gave me solace in that prison, when I finally had the chance to take care of you and yet I still could not do enough to make up for all the times you’ve helped me,” Lancelot said, a pause only when he finally let himself breathe, and then he looked back up to stare him straight in the eyes, “Vane… I… I think I like you.”

Of course, Vane’s first reaction was to immediately run. There was the vague awareness of a clatter as he slammed his hands on the table, the call of Lancelot’s voice as he turned tail and marched to the door. Lancelot had leapt to his feet at the same time as him, and yet he hadn’t given chase; Vane finally realising where he was when he had shrunk to the floor on a random corridor, far, far away from him.

Vane hid his face in his arms, his cheeks blazing red, the thought of Lancelot’s last words echoing in his head. 

He had thought he was only expressing his fondness for a friend: someone who he had known all his life, someone who he had always looked up to, always idealised, always-

He had thought.

Vane buried his face further down into his knees, and listened to the rapid beating of his very own heart.

The next time Vane saw Lancelot, it was with apology cake in hand. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been sitting outside Lancelot’s office like an abandoned puppy; but there was the sound of the door opening, and Vane lifted his head to see Lancelot stood there, eyes wide, mouth agape, his gaze lifting upwards for some reason as Vane felt himself rise to his feet – and then he immediately started running. Vane wasn’t sure where he had flung away the cake, but that didn’t matter right now. 

“Vane! Wait! Stop right there!” Lancelot called, the capes at his waist billowing behind him in the trail of his wake.

“I can’t, I’m really sorry, Lan-chan!” Vane yelled at the top of his voice, his feet moving on their own, the propulsion not letting him stop.

It was certainly a sight to behold: the Captain chasing his Vice Captain halfway across the training grounds, yelling and shouting like they were the only people on the island. The trainees certainly never forgot this spectacle, because it became a tale to be passed down to many generations to come. Nonetheless for the present, all Vane knew was that he had to keep going, until his lungs began to fail him and he desperately needed to rest – but he needed to push on, even though he knew there was no way he could outrun Lancelot.

Lancelot finally caught up to him as Vane’s knees buckled underneath him near the barracks. He collapsed to the dusty ground with a defeated groan, while Lancelot merely leaned against the wall, a tight hold of one long tail of Vane’s tunic. 

“Wait…” Lancelot panted between breaths, his eyes not leaving his form.

“Lan… chan…” Vane panted to the ground.

For a moment, there was nothing but the duet of their exhausted panting. Vane rolled over onto his back, the tail that Lancelot was holding awkwardly catching his leg, but Lancelot didn’t look like he was going to let go anytime soon, so Vane pulled himself up to sit. As soon as they had regained their breaths, they slowly raised their heads to look at each other, a silent impasse as their mouths stayed shut.

“Vane-”

“Lan-chan-”

“You first,” Lancelot inclined his free hand towards him.

“No, you go on…” Vane shook his head.

“Okay, well…” Lancelot held out his fist, and Vane immediately knew what to do, holding out his own in response. 

“Rock, paper…”

Their fists burst into the shape of their answers: Vane with scissors, Lancelot with paper. Vane swore Lancelot had delayed himself for a fraction of a second, because there was no way his reflexes were that slow; but Lancelot was already staring at him expectedly, and it seemed like he was the winner – in a sense. 

Vane paused. He had rehearsed this over and over in his room, but now that Lancelot was really in front of him, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap, quietly noticing how Lancelot’s shadow shrunk from overhead, a soft sound hitting the ground beside him. 

“Lan…” Vane’s mouth opened for an attempt, and shut again just as quickly, “Lan-chan…” He swallowed, his mouth dusty and dry and he desperately needed a drink after running all the way across the training grounds, but Lancelot needed an answer and he needed to be one to provide it, “I…”

He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves squeaking in protest. Lancelot hadn’t uttered a single sound, absolutely still beside him, his hands folded in his own lap.

Then, Vane gasped out loud at last, “I think I like you too.”

Lancelot didn’t waste another second, crashing onto his lips without another word, Vane’s eyes still wide open. Lancelot tasted like sugar – remnants of pastries he had abandoned the other day – and he was warm, so warm; Vane taking in the sight of his long eyelashes, the faded scar on his face from that time in the woods. He had never realised how intensely blue his eyes were, not until Lancelot had opened his eyes and he was staring right at him, inches away, as he kept his lips on his. As Vane followed Lancelot’s lead in closing his own eyes, he was suddenly aware of the soar of his own heart, a buoyancy like drifting along the surface of the sea.

Honestly, they didn’t change much. Vane found himself in Lancelot’s room like always: cleaning, hanging out, bringing him freshly baked sweets. It was when their hands brushed against each other, when their gauntlets were off and the contact between their skin sent electricity through their veins, that they were suddenly aware that something had changed. A longing glance that lasted an extra second, that led to a touch of his lips against his, that led to Lancelot leaning into him in his lap.

They had always been comfortable in each other’s space, hi-fives and hugs and special handshakes; but there was now an element of hunger in their usual physicality. Hugs became cuddles, tickles became excuses to hold one another close. There was a desire to share in his body heat, a need to know just how he tasted like.

“Can I eat something else instead?” Lancelot said one day over pudding.

Vane froze the first time Lancelot had requested something else over the dish in front of him. He thought he knew Lancelot’s tongue. He was a sweet tooth ever since he had known him, a particular fondness for the delicate shells of macarons, and Vane practically knew every dessert recipe by heart. Worry began to set in, he was just about to comply – until Lancelot leaned forward, and Vane quite literally realised what it meant to know Lancelot’s tongue.

“That’s what you meant!” Vane said, an explosion of a realisation lighting up his eyes. Lancelot could do nothing but laugh, and Vane soon felt the weight of one whole Lancelot upon his body.

* * *

The first time they slept together, Vane had no idea how thirsty he’d get.

It turned out that screaming Lancelot’s name over and over again would result in a parched throat. Everything was still so vivid and fresh, all of his senses combining to flood him with memories made a mere few hours prior: the tang of his sweat against his tongue, the ache of his muscles from his body in unusual positions, and he would never forget that sharp, sudden taste when Lancelot climaxed into his mouth. Vane sat still for a moment, overwhelmed and amazed at the naked man next to him, sleeping – stirring awake.

“Vane… What time is it?” Lancelot mumbled, sleep thick in his voice.

“Ah, sorry, Lan-chan… 4am, maybe? Just getting a drink, go back to bed,” Vane whispered, a quick flash of a smile to assuage his concern.

“No,” Lancelot’s answer thudded down at the same time his body flopped onto his.

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered, reaching back to ruffle his already messed up hair.

“Warm…” Lancelot mumbled into Vane’s thigh, “Cold without you.”

With Lancelot not willing to move, Vane could only gaze at him, left with no other choice other than to sweep back his hair and reveal his face. His eyes were firmly shut, arms wrapped tightly around Vane’s thigh, but he looked so serene that Vane could only stop and stare. He reached out a finger to merely prod at him, but all Lancelot did was snatch up his finger into his lips. Vane looked up to the ceiling for an answer, but alas he was still thirsty.

“Up we go…” Vane whispered, scooping up Lancelot into his arms.

There was barely any resistance from Lancelot, merely a grumble of protest as the covers slipped off his body and he was exposed to the cold, but that only made him snuggle in further to Vane, stealing his body heat as he nuzzled into his neck. Vane continued on as if nothing had happened, carrying Lancelot all the way to the kitchen, navigating Lancelot’s home like it was already his. He had been here so much that it practically was – he was merely more naked than usual for this night. He did feel a bit awkward about walking around without changing into something first, but Lancelot was in his arms, and everything was alright then.

“Want some water, Lan-chan?” Vane chirped as he entered his kitchen and flicked on the light. 

Lancelot made a noise as his reply, letting Vane sit him on the kitchen counter to free up his hands. Vane first filled a cup decorated with snowflakes – a cup that Vane had gifted him so long ago that he was amused to find it here in Feendrache – and passed it onto Lancelot.

“Thanks, Vane,” Lancelot said, as he pulled it into his hands.

“Don’t mention it, Lan-chan!” Vane said brightly, before filling his own designated cup and joining Lancelot at the counter.

He didn’t think he was being too obvious, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at Lancelot as they sipped quietly from their cups. His skin had always been paler, but seeing him fully exposed brought that fact even more to light, the snow white of his thigh in contrast to his own sun kissed arm, and every scar that littered his body only told stories that they already personally knew.

After a moment of quiet, Lancelot lowered the cup from his lips, “Something wrong?”

“Oh. Nah! Just… thinking about… It’s kinda strange, y’know?” Vane said, his thumb rubbing against tiny paintings of sunflowers, “I… We… We slept together…”

There was a small pause, before there was the soft sound of his cup being placed down onto the counter, “It was leading up to it, wasn’t it?” Lancelot said, and in the corner of Vane’s eye, he noticed he was swinging his legs, “I don’t find anything strange about being affectionate with you.”

“Well, maybe… not ‘strange’… is what I meant to say…” Vane said slowly.

There was another pause as neither of them spoke: Lancelot with his hands in his lap, Vane staring at the cup in his hands. It had also been a gift, but Lancelot had always said that it felt like it belonged more to Vane.

“I just never thought you’d like me back.”

“Vane.” 

Vane lifted his head at the sound of his name, and immediately spluttered in surprise when Lancelot vaulted into his arms from the counter.

“My partner, my best friend,” Lancelot whispered; his blue eyes staring deep into his green, until he pressed his forehead into his, “My lover.”

In the early hours of the morning, with work still to be done during actual waking hours, they kept each other awake and warm; until they were so exhausted that all they could do was watch the colours of dawn emerge outside their windows, snuggled close together underneath the blankets.

* * *

“Vane, I love you,” Lancelot whispered, his arms encircling Vane’s waist from behind. 

However, Vane merely retaliated with a quick bop to his head, his eyes not leaving the pie he was working on, “Lan-chan, c’mon, if you have any more ‘taste tests’, we’re gonna run out of filling before it even bakes…”

“Tch, meanie…” Lancelot muttered, before lifting his chin off his shoulder, “Guess I’ll eat something else instead…”

“That’s a good boy… Ow! Lan-chan!” Vane immediately wheeled round to face the culprit with a wooden spoon, Lancelot letting go of his ear with merely a quick giggle, his hands up in the air as he backed away. 

“You leave yourself…” Lancelot declared, immediately darting back in to disarm the empty threat and tickle Vane’s sides, “Open to attack!”

Vane burst into a pile of giggles, crumpling into himself as the spoon clattered to the floor, “Quit it, Lan-chan! Or I’ll ban you with Mut!”

“Let me watch you…” Lancelot said, squeezing his waist like it was an appeal to not be banned from the kitchen like their clever cat; but then Vane noticed the softness of his voice, touched with a dash of shyness, “I… I want to cook something for you one day.”

Vane couldn’t speak for the moment he was stunned, Lancelot burying his face into his shoulder during his silence. Somehow or another, now that they were actually dating and Vane wasn’t merely visiting everyday, Lancelot had just invited him to move in and everything had fallen into place. (The conversation had been something like: ‘Where did Mut’s bed go?’ , ‘Oh yeah! We don’t live here!’, all while Lancelot was in the middle of eating a croissant.) There was just more Vane at night than usual – and Lancelot was definitely welcome to that aspect of living with Vane. 

“A… A big steak?” Vane said, when his voice finally returned to him.

“As big as you want,” Lancelot mumbled, nodding – or more like nuzzling – into his shoulder.

“With onions and roast potatoes and gravy-”

“O-One step at a time!” Lancelot said, suddenly lifting off of Vane’s shoulder to speak, and Vane was completely sure he was red in the face.

“I’ll like anything Lan-chan makes for me,” Vane said, grinning wide and reaching back to soothe Lancelot’s head.

Lancelot settled back onto his shoulder, “We can have something savoury since I know you like your meat. We don’t always have to eat sweets, Vane…”

“Yeah, but I like seeing you smile when I say I’ve made some,” Vane said simply. When he was only met with silence, he turned his head round, “Hmm?”

“I love you, Vane,” Lancelot whispered, and Vane was speechless at the expression on his face.

He had to wheel round, his own face blazing red, “Lan-chan, I said no!” 

“I mean it. I love you,” Lancelot said, resting his head against his.

“Lan-chan!” Vane squirmed on the spot, but Lancelot wasn’t loosening his hold anytime soon.

“I love you,” Lancelot repeated, right down his ear.

“I-I love you too,” Vane mumbled finally, the beating of his heart not calming down one bit.

“Your cooking is truly the best in the skies, Vane,” Lancelot continued, the hands around Vane’s waist beginning to trail up.

“Lan-chan, c’mon…” Vane whispered urgently.

Lancelot’s hands stopped, right at his chest, “Because it was you who made this, with all the love in your heart.”


End file.
